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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976476">Things I Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mango_Cult/pseuds/Mango_Cult'>Mango_Cult</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles and Short Fics [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>DreamSMP - Freeform, Ghostbur, He thinks phil and philza are 2 different people, Lmanburg, No Beta We Die Like Wilbur in Skyblockle, Pogtopia, based on what i remember, he cant remember anything, oh yeah also sally the salmon, phil tubbo tommy niki fundy and techno are all referneced, soft angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:22:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mango_Cult/pseuds/Mango_Cult</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He only remembered bits and pieces of his nation, the happy things.<br/>~~~<br/>Or, Ghostbur tries to remember.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles and Short Fics [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Things I Remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He travelled with the wind, letting it carry him to places around the world. His ghostly figure rode along the wind, smiling and watching the nation before him. He only remembered bits and pieces of his nation, the happy things.</p>
<p>The smell of fresh baked bread in the morning, sparring with his brother. What was his name again? There were some bits of pink? A crown? He couldn’t remember. The wind, as homely as ever, whispered to him. It called out his name, and he melted into it. He didn’t need to remember, it only made his head hurt.</p>
<p>A salmon, the taste of salt. He felt a pang of longing for the salmon, but he couldn’t remember them. Why did he care so much about a fish? He remembers the air in his lungs. Was he swimming? Was he drowning? A wave of cold washed over him as he tried thinking of the fish. The wind didn’t like it, and so he let go of the thought.</p>
<p>There was a van, with potion ingredients. Maybe that was the start of his nation. He remembers bullying his brother, not the one with pink and gold, but the one with blond hair ? and something to do with red. He also remembers someone as sweet as sugar, who was always nice to him. There was another person, who he remembers like bees. But he doesn’t remember what they looked like. He thinks the other people looked up to him then, but why do they hate him now?</p>
<p>Revolution? He doesn’t remember most of it. Something about a traitor leading them into a dark room, and the sounds of pistons retracting. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, so he chooses to forget it.</p>
<p>He remembers winning the election, the sound of people cheering for him. The memory is a little fuzzy around the edges, though he basks in the glory of doing something good for his nation. His son (<strike>he had a son? When did he have a son? None of his memories before included a son.</strike>), had grown up in front of his very eyes, pride blooming in his chest. They got along well, he thinks.</p>
<p>He couldn’t think of anything after that. The wind picked up as he shivered. He could feel the cold, never the warmth. The wind blew stronger, letting himself be carried away by it. He fiddled with his hands, trying to think of anything that happened between the election and a ravine. The more he tried, the more his world started to spin, so he let go.</p>
<p>In the ravine he thinks there was an armoury. It was filled to the brim with expensive armour and good weapons. (<strike>Why was he fighting again?)</strike> A large explosion rang out through his head, him cringing backwards. There were books? Something about running through a tunnel, or arrows? It hurt to think about.</p>
<p>He remembers his father protecting him, looking at him with such kind eyes. What was he protecting him from? He thinks it's the man with the green and white bucket hat. The man with green and white had stabbed him. He doesn’t know why. There's a taste of metal in his mouth, as he looks at the rip in the fabric where the sword went through.</p>
<p>But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything.</p>
<p>He’s just a ghost of a man who wanted everything, but died trying.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello i have a bunch of fics in the works they are coming out as soon as i finish them sobs</p></blockquote></div></div>
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